


The Other Coin

by Edeleweiss



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Dark, Darkfic, Feels, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Probably will be fluff, also dark stuff, no literally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edeleweiss/pseuds/Edeleweiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The land of Camelot is in peace. Arthur is king, Merlin is his Court Sorcerer, and neither of them have gotten any better at sharing their feelings. A normal trip to Essetir for peace negotiations turns into a nightmare when they're sent to an alternate universe and find that everything they knew has been turned upside down. They have to find a way to save this world, get back to their own, and defeat their most formidable opponents yet--themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Well, new story idea. Props to Rivre, who encouraged me to start writing it even though I have no idea if I can do a darkfic justice. Probably not, but here goes anyway. If you're internally yelling at me for taking a break from ME:Consulting Detective, I apologize profusely, but the urge to write this was impossible to ignore. I actually have the next chapter done for CD but haven't gotten around to editing it. Will be up next day or so.
> 
> Until then, I hope you enjoy this!

**The Other Coin**

 

It was a routine jaunt to the kingdom of Essetir. No, really.

Merlin shouldered the pack roughly over his shoulder, somewhat irritated how Arthur still managed to find a way to treat him as his manservant. He ought to have learned by now that it would take the slightest slip of Merlin's wrist to turn his pretty sun kissed hair a bright blue. Perhaps he could turn it to the very same black and orange colors that adorned the Essetir crest. Might even help the negotiations a bit.

Striped? Yes, definitely striped.

He was about to fidget his hand ever so slightly to cast just such a spell when Arthur barked an order to mount the horses or they'd all be late, and he'd personally place an order for more stocks to be built if their group didn't get a move on. Merlin rolled his eyes, leaning back against his mare. Not a single day went by without Arthur coming up with increasingly interesting threat, much to the amusement of the knights.

"Merlin, mount the bloody horse or I'll demote you to pack mule." Arthur rode up from behind, reaching down to cuff Merlin over the head with enough force to send him sprawling.

Sitting up from the forest floor, he glared back up. "I could get there faster than you in my sleep. Don't even start about telling me to rush."

"Doubtful. Clumsy as you are, I think you'd end up down a canyon if you tried those cursed boots again."

Merlin pouted and coughed guiltily in response, definitely not out of embarrassment. "Regardless of how that experiment worked, I thought we agreed never to speak of that again."

"Unless you're too slow, in which case, all bets are off. Also," he added with a prattish air he knew would rile Merlin, "I do what I want."

And that was the last straw. Merlin stood up, and Arthur immediately ducked away from whatever spell the idiot Court Sorcerer happened to deem worthy of casting upon the king. He was fairly certain Arthur would dodge it, but sent the small blast of magic his way anyway, out of childish spite. He cracked a grin when he heard an indignant cry from a very surprised knight behind Arthur. The two bickering men barely spared a moment to give any sympathy to poor Gwaine.

"Official pack mule," Arthur stated with a voice that, if the people around didn't know better, was with conviction and a very serious demotion.

"Thank you, I'd certainly like one," Merlin shot back, ignoring the pointed looks of amusement from the knights. Jumping onto his horse, he waggled his fingers threateningly toward Arthur, laughing when he was successful in making the king flinch back from the action.

"Merlin! I won't get any free drinks with this on now will I?"

The cheeky Court Sorcerer snorted attractively. His observant king suddenly realized that the spell had to actually have hit something and slowly turned to look at Gwaine, who now, instead of wearing dashing Camelot red, sported a very vivid pink cape.

The rest of the knights who had valiantly held in their laughter let their voices burst forth in a raucous sort of din that only came when all of them were in high spirits and they knew all was finally right with Camelot. No more war, no more evil sorcerers coming after them with the goal of the throne.

It was an odd feeling. After so many years of protecting Arthur and preparing for another onslaught of attacks coming from every which way, Merlin was having a hard time adjusting. Even after the dust had settled from the final showdown with Morgana over a year ago, he found himself constantly on edge, half expecting to turn around and see her standing there with a terrifying look of vengeance upon her once sweet face.

And then there was the magic.

Arthur had thanked him when he lay dying of the sword wound, but had acted distant for a long and torturous week after they both limped back from the lake of Avalon, neither condemning Merlin nor acknowledging him.

Merlin, heartbroken, resigned to continuing his duty as manservant and doing everything he could to keep attention from himself.

Then it all come to a head when Arthur stampeded into his quarters early after a particularly infuriating training session with potential new knights. The men were young and motivated, but severely lacking in ability. During this time of day, Merlin often lounged lazily on the floor, resting against the frame of Arthur's bed. Allowing his magic to perform his duties, he spent the long hours in the empty chambers pondering his existence within Camelot.

Now, this may have sounded like recipe for utter and complete disaster. And it was. Just not in the way Merlin had been expecting.

He froze, back stiff against the wood, gulping when Arthur caught sight of the floating bedsheets and armor scrubbing itself clean in the corner.

The two had stared at each other, Arthur oddly blank while his manservant felt the unwilling expression of horror begin to cross his face. At this, the king blinked. So did Merlin. It must have been a good five minutes before Arthur made the softest scuffling sound and the armor dropped, clanging loudly to the floor.

"S-sorry." Merlin managed to choke out the word, and he wasn't entirely sure he meant the apology only for allowing the armor to fall.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Alright, I think this discussion had been postponed enough."

Nodding sharply in a nervous bobbing fashion, Merlin scrambled to his feet and stood awkwardly in front of his king. At the sight of this clumsy, completely Merlin behavior, Arthur sighed wearily and sat himself in a posture of dejection down into the nearest desk chair.

"Alright, I get it. I understand why you're angry with me, and you have every right to be. Heaven knows you deserve awhile to yourself, but I-" Arthur paused at the sight of Merlin's complete and utter look of bewilderment. Admittedly, Arthur hadn't seen this going well, but of the reactions he imagined could happen, the disjointed brainlessness wasn't one he'd expected. Then again, he had come to expect the complete opposite of his expectations when it came to his idiot manservant.

"Me? Angry with you?" Merlin parroted back, as though the thoughts in his head hadn't quite yet connected and were jumbled around inside his head. Arthur could almost see him trying to catch the mental puzzle pieces, attempting to put them together and having about as much luck as Gwen did in hiding her affections for Lancelot.

Arthur quickly jerked his thoughts from such a traitorous direction, because he was dealing with a much bigger and more immediate problem. He sighed in defeat. Dealing with all these feelings could not be good for any one king to handle. "Look, if you want to keep to yourself, that's fine. But could you not look at me like I'm the last person you'd like to see?"

Finally, the implications hit Merlin harder than if a mace had struck him directly in the chest. He inhaled sharply, grasping the hems of his shirt. Could he have really been that wrong? That they'd both been skirting around one another for days because they had misjudged the thought process of the other?

Gaining a small amount of courage from the admittance, Merlin took a hesitant step forward. "But... I thought you hadn't forgiven me." His voice was small and came out more as a question that a statement. It also sounded like a child confessing to his mother for breaking some of her precious crockery, even to his own ears.

Mouth agape, Arthur clenched his hands tightly, and Merlin could now see that anger bubbled beneath the surface. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the worst.

"Are you an idiot?"

Merlin stared at the floor, trying to swallow down the growing lump in his throat. He didn't want to see Arthur's face when he reached the end of his goodwill and sent him away from Camelot. He had no illusions that Arthur would burn him at the stake and send him down for an execution, Arthur was far too kind a man for that, especially after all they'd been through. Instead, he focused on keeping his breathing steady for the inevitable-

A warmth enveloped him, steady against his wavering stance. Merlin blinked, uncomprehending.

"Mmph?" He managed to make a noise of wonderment and question against what he initially thought was Arthur's shoulder. But then he entertained the strange thought of whether death by suffocation was high on Arthur's list of punishments.

"You stupid, moronic, asinine idiot." This time, it connected that Arthur wasn't punishing him, nor angry, or trying to keep him at bay. He was hugging Merlin, in a shameless expression of comfort. This sent Merlin's brain into a frenzy of new, more optimistic thoughts. It was a few minutes later before Arthur loosened his hold and pulled back, though Merlin couldn't help but wish it hadn't ended.

"So let me get this straight," Merlin said slowly, finally raising his eyes to meet Arthur's. "I don't get a day off for saving your sorry arse do I?"

The blank stare he got in return wasn't reassuring, and Merlin thought he'd made a dire mistake in trying to joke. But as the seconds passed, a smile took over on Arthur's face and the both of them ended up in obnoxiously loud laughter, and one of the two--neither will ever admit to it--even made it onto the floor with giddy hysteria.

When they'd finally calmed and settled into a comfortable silence, Merlin noticed that Arthur darted glances in his direction more than a few times. Feeling confident that whatever this was, it wasn't going to be a sudden change of heart, the warlock spoke a few words of old. A slight rush of wind ruffled Arthur's hair in affection. "Wanna tell me what that's about, or am I just going to have to wait until another heart to heart conversation happens?"

The mild look of distaste from Arthur caused Merlin to grin. Even so, the blond seemed to be having a hard time spitting out whatever was eating at him.

"Come on, out with it. It can't be harder than any of my confessions within the past week." He raised his eyebrows expectantly, relishing in the feeling of triumph at the eye roll he received in return.

"Here." The king tossed Merlin a small package wrapped in brown paper. There was no time to wonder where Arthur had been hiding it, though he suspected it had been in the room with Merlin the entire time. It was soft and squishy in his hands as he caught it. His brows furrowed deeply at the foreign object.

"What's this?"

"Are you that severely mentally impaired that you cannot understand the concept of a wrapped gift?"

Sheepishly, Merlin ripped the paper open with extreme care and out tumbled a mess of thick blue cloth. Confused and curious, he held it up. His eyes roved in wonderment at the clasp, a gold metal signet bearing the Pendragon crest, intricate and ornate in detail. It had cost a pretty penny, of that he was sure. He felt like this couldn't possibly belong to him. This sort of present was for nobles and visiting royalty, never a mere manservant. Never Merlin.

Wide, astonished eyes sought out the king's. Elated sky blue eyes met his, obviously expecting some form of worded thanking, but Merlin had long since lost any form of coherency he may have had.

"You-I-What?" He bumbled out.

"Yes, Merlin," he said in a derisively sarcastic tone. "A cloak. It's used as a symbol of status. Generally for walking, ridin-"

"Why?"

Scoffing and turning his gaze in an unbelieving glare at Merlin, Arthur resisted the urge to clobber the idiot over the head. "Because Merlin," he answered, as though he'd lost all hope for the mental affliction that ailed the poor boy, "You're no longer my manservant."

"Y-You're sacking me?"

"Indeed I am. You'll just have to suffer through being fired."

"But I..."

"And hired again for the position of Court Sorcerer."

The words sent a shock of warmth straight through Merlin's body. This was everything he'd ever wanted. Arthur accepting his magic, freeing all those once persecuted under Uther's rule, to be recognized for everything he'd ever done for Arthur and the kingdom he'd build. The startling realization that he'd actually done it hit him hard, and the sheer weight of it all was nearly enough to send him to the floor like the girl Arthur always said he was. But his mood was so far above the clouds that he couldn't care less.

A cough drew his attention away from the memory, and Merlin suddenly remembered where he was.   
  
Right. Trip. Visiting Essetir for peace negotiations. People staring at him for getting lost in thought. An irritated king trying to get his attention by snapping a finger in front of his face.

"Merlin, I swear if you zone out when bandits come, I'm leaving you to the dogs."

A soft chuckle rippled through the knights, although the same couldn't be said for Gwaine, who effectively sulked in his saddle. The pink cloak rustled behind him, as though it knew it's purpose in life was to flaunt itself in the wind and garner as much attention to Gwaine as possible. Merlin felt a little bad for him. Not enough to change the color back though.

Percival and Elyan seemed to be having too much enjoyment poking fun. Perhaps too much, Merlin thought, when the figurative wording turned into literally poking Gwaine.

"Apologies Sire," he said, grabbing the reigns, "Next time I'll reminisce in the comfort of my own chambers."

"See that you do."

The rest of the journey went very much like this, lighthearted and upbeat. The small party of knights, king, and Court Sorcerer continued on their way to the kingdom of Essetir, sure that the negotiations would only go well.

Little did they know that destiny had a bitter sense of humor when it came to the two sides of a coin.


End file.
